


Destiny

by Carmarthen



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean
Genre: Canon Character of Color, Character Death, Character of Color, Gen, Gods, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-05
Updated: 2010-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-05 20:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmarthen/pseuds/Carmarthen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it is your eternal job to take the souls of those dead at sea, and everyone you ever loved is a sailor, destiny's a bitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destiny

Anamaria was the first, stabbed through the gut and bleeding onto the deck of the wreck of her ship.

"Turner," she rasped, a flicker of surprise dark in her eyes. "Hadn't expected _you_."

She could still make him feel the fool, with the truth in her harsh voice. "Anamaria," he said, for she'd no last name, the daughter of a slave and her wicked master, "do you fear death?" The words, said a thousand times and a thousand times again since he'd taken his duty. Always different.

Anamaria turned her head to the side and spat blood. "Men--" she said, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, her skin already losing the warmth of life. "Sparrow and the rest of you--fear what you know not. Women know. I know."

"Calypso," Will said, softly.

"Aye," Anamaria said. "I do not fear her. Let me go, Turner."

And because he was not Davy Jones, Will knelt and gave her mercy, quietly, with his father's knife.

"Well, then," said her ghost, with mild interest. "An it suits ye, Captain Turner, I'll work for my passage."

"As you will, Miss Anamaria," Will said. "You may relieve Mr. Turner on lookout."

He watched her go, straight and proud, her shirt clean and whole and her skin dark and smooth. She did not look dead, but her fire was gone from the world all the same.

* * *

Gibbs was next. He appeared one day on the _Flying Dutchman_'s foredeck, already a ghost.

"I feared death, Cap'n," Gibbs said, taking a swig from his ever-present flask. "But I'd no choice, had I?"

"I'm sorry," Will said. "I'd have given it if I could."

Gibbs shrugged. "'Tis no more than I deserve for being a drunken fool."

Will knew, as he always did, how Gibbs had died: slipped from the rigging at night, skull cracked open on the deck.

"You've a good heart," he said, and patted Gibbs awkwardly on the shoulder. Comfort and counsel to the dead: he'd not been prepared for the task. "That counts for something in this world."

"It's the next one I'm afeared of, lad--Captain." Gibbs made the sign against evil.

Will had no answer for that.

* * *

After that, Will had nightmares about his son. He must be twelve, thirteen now. Old enough to go to sea. Will didn't expect Elizabeth to keep to land forever, and James would go with her.

Will had taken children before, as passengers. Few of them had enough to fear in the afterlife to consider his offer. It had always been hard, but now whenever he saw a lad standing at the rail who hadn't a moment before, or saw a young midshipman bleeding out on the decks of some warship, his stomach dropped and he fancied his heart must beat faster.

Every time, it was some other boy.

But there were always more. Will did the only thing he could: he stopped sleeping. It wasn't as if he truly needed to.

* * *

 

Elizabeth's latest flagship, the _Pirate Bride_, was taken off the coast of Singapore by the Chinese navy.

Will knew so soon as he saw the wreckage of the burning junk floating on the waves.

She looked at him without surprise, pale as sailcloth, her hand pressed to a bloody hole in her stomach. "Will," she gasped. "James--James is safe."

"Elizabeth Turner," he said, for he could not break the ritual, although his voice cracked. "Do you--do you--"

"Yes," she said, tears mixing with the blood and grime on her cheeks. She reached for him with a trembling hand. "I do fear death. I do, Will!"

So Elizabeth Turner died a pirate with a lie on her lips, for the _Dutchman_'s crew were all bound to her honestly, as much as Will might sometimes wish otherwise.

They had been married thirty-six years and only three days.

Will didn't know what he felt. He hardly recognized the fierce girl he'd married in the scarred, hard woman before him. He held out a hand to Elizabeth's ghost and helped her up. Her skin was already cold to the touch, cold as the sea.

"We've the journey together at least," he said gently. "Let's make the most of it."

* * *

In the end, it was his son who broke him. Will never expected James to fear death, but the words had to be said.

After the journey, he said to the sea, "Calypso, I can't do this."

"For what you truly want, there is a cost to be paid," she said. She stood next to him, leaning on the railing. A wind had picked up, the skies darkening, but her hair hung still and calm around her face in long black waves, and when she turned to look at him her face was Elizabeth's, with eyes as dark and dangerous as the storm.

"I did not ask for this." Will's voice shook. "Jack and Elizabeth chose for me."

"I can take away your compassion," Calypso said, her voice low and rich as Elizabeth's had never been, a faint hint of Tía Dalma's accent. "You will feel no pain. There is a price."

"Forgive me," Will said, bitterly, "but no. I saw how well that worked for Davy."

"Poor William Turner," Calypso said, and laid a hand on his. It was as cold as seaweed. "Have hope. Your destiny is not yet played out."

"And what am I to do with that?" Will shouted into the rising storm, the wind stealing the breath he no longer needed. "What am I to do?"

Only the gale answered him.


End file.
